Chapter 8
Jodi Castle
Earlier…
The stone circle was… Well, it was a stone circle.
Grey rock, mostly upright, some of them a teeny bit tilted after centuries of the bracing British weather.
On the other hand, there was something serene about the location.
And it was blessedly quiet. No people, no noise, not even the distant hum of traffic.
Just grey sky and grey rocks and bird song.
Was this what had prompted Nash’s suggestion that they tie the knot?
Had he come up here earlier and felt the calm seeping into him too?
Okay, so he’d been an ass, but that didn’t change the fact that she loved him.
She did truly love him. He was good to her.
They were good together. But nothing was ever perfect, so that meant accepting that someone could light up your world and simultaneously be a complete arse on occasion.
Was it making excuses for him to acknowledge that tensions were high right now?
The Ghost Boys’ meteoric rise from nobodies to somebodies had changed all their lives, and she was so proud of them all.
She’d been giddy all week thinking about seeing them perform for a crowd this big.
They’d never played a stadium, nothing bigger than a club, really.
How many people were here? Thousands? Tens of thousands?
Yeah, it made sense that he had jitters, and that he’d seek out security by further cementing their bond with a handfasting.
That was Nash through and through. He wanted the limelight, the spectacle, but if it was possible to get all that from beneath the security of a weighted blanket, he would’ve.
How many times had he told her she was his anchor?
At least as many as the times she’d told him the same.
He was. Her life had improved immeasurably since meeting him.
He and the guys had made her feel wanted, when no one else wanted her.
They’d made her a part of their world, made her realise there were good people out there, and sometimes you had to be brave and let them in.
Not everyone was out to hurt you. Or to use you. Some of them were set on showering you with all the love and security you’d craved. She hadn’t enjoyed much of either of those things prior to meeting Nash et al. Even now, there were days when she woke expecting it all to evaporate.
She ought to have been kinder earlier. Maybe Nash was right. She had been shirty because he’d left her in the lurch for hours, which was unfair, because there’d been nothing he could do about it.
She’d head back in a moment, straighten things out with him. Suggest they decamp to her tent, or if he really felt the need to prove his rocker credibility by shagging her on the bus, they could cosy up in his bunk.
Only, when she got there, Nash was no longer on the Ghost Boys’ tour bus. She found their drummer, Jez, in his place scrawling words into a tatty notebook.
“Hey, I heard about you and Rune. Sorry, it didn’t—”
“It’s for the best,” he mumbled, then took off towards his bunk leaving only the smell of his aftershave behind.
Jodi fidgeted a while, then bracing herself for a snotty reply, climbed down the steep entry steps to where roadie girl was still on duty. “You don’t happen to know where Nash is?”
“Who are you again?”
“Don’t be a bitch, Krista,” a bald guy wearing a crew vest called. “She’s Nash’s fiancée, and you’re perfectly aware of that fact. Give the woman a break.” He finished fishing something out of the under-bus locker and drifted over to them. “They’re doing an interview.”
“Without Jez?”
“You’ve seen Quill?”
She nodded. “He’s in his bunk.”
“Give me a moment, I’m supposed to be rounding him up, and then I’ll take you over to them.”
“Thanks. What’s your name?”
“Brian.”
“Thanks, Brian.”
Jez stared daggers at her as he was herded off the bus. He looked wrung out. Eyes hollowed out by too many late nights and probably dehydration. He had a beer in his hand now, and there were tangles in his wild mane of curly brown hair.
“Right, lets hook you up with the rest of them.” Seemed Brian was their tour manager, who’d obviously seen it all before.
A sour-faced drummer mooching along with a beer in his hand and probably a broken-heart wasn’t anything to fuss over.
“Honestly, hen, the romantic relationship nosedives are nowt to fuss over. Happens every other day. Then a girl offers to blow their mind, and they inevitably move on. It’s when the band start plotting to murder one another, that’s when my job gets wearing. ”
That’d never happen. The guys were besties.
The band were leaving a shack as they arrived.
It looked like a larger version of the wooden stalls that populated European Christmas Markets, only festooned in promotional advertising for the conglomerate of influencers it was housing for the weekend instead of overpriced marzipan pigs and nutcrackers.
“Where the fuck were you?” Balin asked, barrelling past her without so much as a nod to lay into Jez. “You’re not taking this very seriously, man. We’ve finally got our break, don’t fuck it up. You barely said a word at the meet and greet earlier, and then you skive off the interview.”
“I’ll do the next one.”
“That’s the spirit.” Brian clapped Jez on the back. “One missed interview ain’t gonna crumble your cookies, guys. Our boy here was composing, not slouching, so dial it down a little. All is well.”
“Yeah, all right.” Balin gave their drummer a friendly punch. “It’s not like anyone gives a shit about drummers anyhow.”
Jodi left them to their snipping over whether drummers or bassists were at the bottom of the pecking order and drifted towards Lee and Nash who were still in the shack doorway talking to their pretty interviewer.
Lee was laying the charm on thick, but the girl’s gaze kept straying towards her man.
Nash, of course, was lapping it up. The boy was a sucker for attention.
Still, it was a blessing when the woman sent them on their way and returned to her shack.
“She’s got to prepare for her next interview,” Lee explained.
“Hey.” Nash planted a kiss on her cheek. “Sorry about earlier. You know what I’m like.”
She did. “It’s fine. I took a hike up to the standing stones for a look see. I think we should do it.”
It was like she’d struck a match inside him. “Yeah?” He positively beamed. “You wanna get all pagan with me?”
Jodi nodded, amused by his giddiness. He was all tentacle arms and smoochy cuddles while Lee tried to ignore them. “God, you’re amazing, Jo. Can’t believe how lucky I am to have you. Guys, Jo-Jo and I are gonna tie the knot.”
“We know,” they chorused. “We’ve seen the fucking rock on her finger, and you remind us at least twice a day.”
Nash scowled. He leaned into her all conspiratorially. “I say we don’t invite them.”
“Just us,” she whispered back. That shouldn’t get her in the chest, but it did. Whenever the wedding came up in conversation, he’d start rattling off names of relatives they’d have to invite, and she’d start dreaming about the two of them eloping to a beach somewhere.
“It’s a date. Midnight up at the stones.”
“Midnight? It was quarter to eleven, earlier.”
“Yes. Quarter to midnig…eleven.”
“Which is it Nash?”
“Eleven. Definitely, eleven. This is why I need you. You never forget anything. What else am I supposed to be remembering?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t been at any of your briefings.”
“You’d better come to the one tomorrow. Laundry. That was it. I’m completely out of pants. You should be our official girl Fri—”
“Are you the thieving wretch that stole my boxers?” Balin grabbed him by the shirt.
Nash gave him an innocent look while shaking his head and attempting to uncurl Balin’s fingers. “Probably the latest girl you banged.”
Balin pursed his lips and released him. “Better have been.”
“Any chance you could stick a load in for me?” Nash said out of the corner of his mouth to Jo. “And, guys, what do you think, should we make Jo-Jo our official Girl Friday?”
“You mean pay her to do your laundry?” Lee remarked.
“Honestly, that’s a task that requires danger money.” Jez said, droll as ever.
“Laundry and other things. For all of us, not just me. We all want her to stick around, right?”
“Aye, but she doesn’t have to play at being a domestic to do that, she can just come along for the ride.”
“But having an official role would be better, right, babe?”
A weirdly excited fizz permeated her veins.
Who the heck got excited by the prospect of becoming a dogsbody?
Her, apparently. But an official role, would also make her a legitimate part of the tour.
Needed. Essential. Not just a hanger-on.
“I don’t have to wash anyone’s underwear who’d prefer to wash their own. ”
“Wouldn’t you rather just hang out?” Lee asked.
“Honestly, I’d rather earn my place.”
“Okay.”
En masse they started back towards the tour bus, only to detour part way lured by the smell of food from various stalls and tents.
“Hungry?” Nash asked. Her stomach rumbled right on cue.
Breakfast had been long ago and hadn’t been anything substantial.
She’d opened a tin of tuna once her tent was pitched, but the cats had polished off most of that.
After this, she ought to check up on them.
Flugwhump, the little scoundrel, could be an escape artist. He wouldn’t wander far, and he always came back, but she didn’t want him sneaking onto someone’s tour bus and winding up far, far away.
He was her favourite. Not that she had favourites.
Nash, still with his arm around her shoulders, guided her between the lines of people. “Choose whatever you fancy. Lee’s paying.”
“Why’s Lee paying?”
“He just is.”
She looked back at the Ghost Boys’ guitarist, who shrugged. “I’m the one that Harry and Brian trust with the funds.”